


The Thing That They Started

by Endangered_Slug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1886922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endangered_Slug/pseuds/Endangered_Slug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Repeatinglitanies prompted: With the his only son and heir dead before his time, Mr Gold makes an impulsive decision to marry again and have his young wife Belle (who’s 20 years his junior) bear a son to replace the one he lost. But he eventually falls deeply in love with Belle that he starts to assure her that he does not mind succeeding years they’ve been without child.</p><p>Belle’s life however takes a turn when a woman named Emma Swan comes into their lives claiming her son, Henry, to be Mr Gold’s grandson. And thus, leaving Belle insecure about her place in her husband’s life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Thing About Wednesdays

**Author's Note:**

> I know there are several really amazing stories that explore Belle as a surrogate (Bad Faery and Suchadearie come to mind immediately though I'm fairly certain there's a few more, yes? You should read them if you haven't already.) but the prompt grabbed me by the ears and said in a great booming voice,“YOU WILL WRITE THIS.” So I did! Then I immediately stalled. Repeatinglitanies' other completely evil prompt this morning reminded me that oh yeah I was writing this thing I should probably finish it. Well, I didn't finish it so you'll get it in chunks.
> 
> Super thanks to lizandletdie for helping me with the titles when I drew a blank!

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and the gentle tapping of her husband's cane on the floorboards woke Belle up from a deep sleep. She snuggled deeper under the covers, hoping to delay the inevitable start of the day.  
“Morning, sleepyhead,” a voice rich with a scottish burr called from somewhere on her right. Belle sometimes suspected, though she couldn't prove, that he would exaggerate his accent on purpose just to rile her up. Most times it worked; today he'd have to earn it. “Time to get up.”

She opened an eye, peering at a somewhat blurry figure hovering over her. He held a steaming cup of coffee in one hand that he waved it in front of her nose in order to entice her out of bed.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmern'n.”

“Correct as always, sweetheart, but you still have to get up.” He trailed a tickling finger up and down her ribcage trying to get her to budge. “I've heard rumors that there's a camp field trip this afternoon to the library and that can't happen if the beautiful librarian stays in bed all day slumbering away.”

She reluctantly pushed herself up onto her elbow, glaring at him underneath the mop of matted hair but he refused to move. She took the cup from her husband and slurped, willing herself to wake up. “There's a field trip,” she said, her voice still groggy from sleep. “Ashley's working today. I'm sure she can handle it,” she said with a wide yawn. “And you kept me up last night.”

He hummed in satisfaction. “I don't remember you complaining,” he said as he sat next to her, settling himself comfortably in the crook of her legs. “Ashley couldn't handle a three-legged yorkie let alone a bus full of kids.”

“Don't be mean, Callum.” But she grinned at him anyway, chuckling a bit under her breath.

He widened his eyes, innocently. “Who's to know? It's just us in here.”

“ _Everyone_ knows you're a great, big beast.” She curled around him more, bringing her knees up closer to his thighs to show that her words were teasing. She tugged on his jacket, “I would know,” she said, softly.

“You're the only one who matters,” he said seriously, leaning down over her looking for all the world as if he was going to kiss he before changing his mind and straightening up. He patted her on the thigh, lingering for just a moment before letting it rest on her hip. He shook it gently. “Come on, get up. You've been looking forward to this as much as the kids.”

She made a face at him. “I think they'd rather be at the new park instead of the library.”

“And what about my beautiful wife? Would she rather be at the park, too?” he teased.

She set the cup down on the side table and looked at her husband. His face was certainly serious enough, but his warm, bright eyes were crinkled around the outer corners with secret laughter, a soft smile playing around the edges of his mouth. She felt something inside her clench a bit before settling deep into her belly as she took him in. He had chosen his attire carefully today wearing a deep gray suit and subtly patterned silk shirt. His tie, she noticed, was one she gave to him during the early days of their marriage. He was exquisite and he was all hers. Ashley could take care of things, she decided. No one would be in on a Wednesday morning anyway.

She had morning breath and then a big gulp of coffee but she knew from experience that he wouldn't mind. She grabbed his tie and pulled him down for a kiss. “I'd rather play Naughty Librarian with my husband than keep a wild pack of preschoolers from eating my books.”

His soft brown eyes eyes lit up with unconcealed pleasure. “Mrs. Gold, I'm shocked at your behavior. Whatever will the townsfolk say?” His smile turned wicked as he bunched the covers in his fist and abruptly yanked them down.

She pushed herself up and rubbed his bottom lip with hers. “They'll say something stupid and irrelevant as usual,” she said against his lips. “Forget them. Kiss me.”


	2. The Thing About Their Marriage

 

Belle was relatively new in Storybrooke, having been hired to revitalize the neglected library. Once she arrived in town and poured herself into the library, it was as if the town had rediscovered reading. Within a short span of time she doubled their holdings, introduced automated checkout, and nearly tripled the amount of patrons it had boasted previously. She had plans for offering ebooks as well as building an expansion to encompass a larger children's wing, but for now she was pleased with what she had started. She liked Storybrooke and its small town feeling. She liked the way people smiled at her as they walked by on the street and how they knew who she was, which was a vast improvement from her days interning at a branch library in Denver. It was refreshing to become a part of a community even if they were a bit wary of strangers at first. Most of the citizens were born locally and had never left. Newcomers were welcome, but kept at a distance until they were slowly, gently enfolded into their midst. Like the Borg, she thought sometimes when she was particularly frustrated wit her lack of social life. Still, she had her trusty books and a few friends to call on and she wasn't unhappy.

 

One of her favorite patrons was Mr. Gold, someone everyone in town feared, mainly because he seemed to own the town itself. He was an immigrant like herself and she felt a bit of kinship with him being so far away from their original homes. Belle, aware of his reputation, found him to be perfectly polite, if a bit stern, and more than a bit sarcastic and always interesting. She didn't like to judge someone based on hearsay, especially when those rumors were repeated by mildly xenophobic mill workers. Mr. Gold kept her in silent laughter as he made cutting observations of the various people in the town and though she often rebuked him there was no mistake that she enjoyed his sense of humor. It helped that she had no business transactions with him other than his checking out and returning books twice a week. Her job and small apartment were supplied through the town so she never saw him become the tyrant everyone swore he was. He visited the library for months and she paid him in kind by browsing his shop and purchasing a few small items for her apartment. They'd run into each other at Granny's and sometimes, if the weather held out, lingered over their to-go coffee cups before work started.

 

The proposal had come out of nowhere. Not even Callum had expected it. One moment they were laughing quietly, watching Ashley chase her rambunctious daughter around the stacks and the next thing she knew he had confessed his desire to have another child; someone he could spend his days with and nurture. He'd always loved children and felt his advancing years keenly, wanting an heir to leave his amassed wealth to. Belle, alone in the world but for her books, also had a strong urge to create a family and the next thing they knew lawyers were called, a prenup was drawn, and vows were exchanged before the month was up, leaving behind a very bewildered town in their wake as he whisked her off to Florence for their honeymoon.

 

The first few days in his house were awkward and Callum had dangerously come close to being murdered with a shoe after Belle witnessed the full force of his temper for the first time. But Callum had learned that Belle wasn't the kind of person who would sit back and let him walk all over her. She gave as good as she got and, once they figured each other out and became better acquainted with each other, they soon learned how to be good friends. She enjoyed her new role as his wife. She loved waking up to someone and having a warm bed and warm feet. He was a wonderful storyteller and had traveled extensively before settling in Storybrooke; they were in the middle of planning an excursion to Bali for Christmas so Belle could have her own stories to tell their children. She loved the sex, too, which was a perk she hadn't even considered when she signed up. For a man in his middle age and a bum ankle, he was spry and inventive.

 

When her friends asked with barely hidden revulsion if it was true that she had married Mr. Gold she defended her marriage, but after a time, when she realized that they would never accept him as her husband, she withdrew and kept things cordial but superficial. She couldn't explain to them why she married him—she didn't think she had to to be quite honest. Belle went into the marriage feeling warmly towards Callum Gold and the more she came to know him, the more she knew that she'd made the right decision.

 

She was moved to angry tears when he told her of his first disastrous marriage. Callum had stared at her as if she had gone slightly crazy—perhaps he thought she was a bit nuts to marry him anyway. Afterwards he confided in her about his only son whom he'd driven away and was tragically killed in a car accident before he could make amends. He took the full blame for the estrangement and she held him close when he broke down in front of her, kissing the top of his head and petting his soft hair until he cried himself out.

 

These were private matters that she held close to her heart, grateful for his trust and part of her started to truly love him the night he told her of his unhappy past. She felt possessive of her new husband in a way she'd never thought possible. He was hers now and she would protect him and care for him as long as he would let her.

 

* * *

 

The doorbell rang just as she finished packing her lunch into her Daisy Duck lunchbox. She left the kitchen, wiping her hands on an embroidered linen towel which she flicked over her shoulder, opening the door before the last notes of Westminster Quarters trailed off. Standing on the porch was a tall blonde woman wearing sunglasses and a young boy of about seven years old and a shaggy mop of dark brown hair. Behind them was an old yellow bug parked at the curb in front of their mailbox. It had been years since she'd seen a classic bug and the sight made her smile.

 

“May I help you?” she asked.

 

The woman took off her sunglasses and fiddled with the frames a bit, obviously nervous. “My name is Emma Swan. This is Henry, my son. Is a Mr.Gold here?"

 

Belle shook her head. “I'm sorry the name isn't familiar. Are you here to see Callum? He's at work right now, but I can give you directions to the shop if you need them.”

 

Emma shook her head. “No, I'm here because of — of Neal.” The look on her face was sharp and ready for a fight.

 

The smile dropped from Belle's face. “Come in.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. The Thing About Henry

During the first months of their marriage her days were ruled by charts and thermometers and ovulation tests and then, eight months after their wedding, doctor's appointments. Her prenup with Callum didn't set a time frame for when she was to have a child, but she felt the absence of that positive pregnancy test just the same. They had married each other specifically for a baby and she had yet to produce one. All the specialists they consulted had confirmed that there was nothing preventing her from conceiving except, perhaps, the stress of trying to have a baby. Try to relax and let things happen naturally they advised and, if in another year, they still hadn't conceived then they can start chlomid treatments. Well, it had been nearly that long since the last consult and she was beginning to think it would never happen despite their best efforts. After nearly two years of marriage and making love to her husband at every available opportunity when she at her most fertile, they were still childless.

 

Callum, to his credit, never said anything in reproach about it. He held her hand through every invasive test and every negative pregnancy test and when she broke down halfway through the process in fear that she would never be able to conceive he wiped away her tears and held her close, crooning nonsense as he soothed her. Even though they knew he could father children his age was a concern so he submitted to some tests which came back normal. There was simply no medical reason why she wasn't pregnant. Those difficult days had given way to a more pleasant occupation of being Callum's wife. As much as he wanted a child he was more patient than the people in this town would give him credit for. Belle still kept track of her ovulation, but she was more in tune with her body after months of charting and no longer needed those hated thermometers or ovulation tests. They decided, after much consideration, to forego the fertility treatments for now, tabling the idea for another six months.

 

* * *

 

Belle ruthlessly stamped down on the bitter jealousy that welled up inside of her as she looked at Emma and Henry. It was ridiculous to be jealous, she _knew_ that, but it still jabbed at her every time she noticed a feature that reminded her of her husband. She'd tried for so long, done everything right and still no baby. And now, sitting in the front parlor and kicking his feet upon the settee, was the answer to all of her husband's wishes. A grandson. That possibility had never occurred to either of them and Belle felt a pang of hurt for her husband that his son kept the knowledge of Henry a secret. He was a lovely child with bright, inquisitive eyes that took in everything from the stained glass windows to the collection of antique keys jumbled haphazardly in a Limoges bowl on the side table.

 

“May I get you anything to eat? It's a long drive up from Boston, you must be famished. Or a drink? Tea?” she asked hopefully. She felt adrift and needed to be doing something other than sitting.

 

“No. Thanks. We grabbed a bite outside Portland so we're good for now.” Emma looked around a bit, taking in all the knick-knacks and curios. “Mr. Gold likes his stuff.”

 

Belle perked up a bit. “He has an interesting collection,” she began. “In fact, there's a large cabinet full of vintage—

 

“Mom,” Henry interrupted with a loud whisper. “I have to pee.”

 

Belle tried to keep her smile hidden as she stood up and held out her hand to the boy. “I'll show you where the bathroom is.”

 

Emma hopped up quickly. “I'll take him,” she said curtly, taking her son's hand and heading to the hallway. “This way?”

 

Dismayed and left with her hand hanging in midair, Belle pointed in the right direction. “It's just two doors on the left,” she said. She took a deep breath and tried not to feel hurt over the snub. Of course Emma was nervous and she was a stranger. Strangers have no business taking other people's children to the bathroom. But it was _her_ house. At least, it was her house until Callum decided otherwise. With Henry on the scene her future with him was becoming uncertain. She didn't realize until just now how dear he had become to her, how devastated she would be if her marriage dissolved because she was now superfluous. A tiny seed of panic settled into her stomach, making her feel very ill. She pushed it aside as much as she was able. She was happy for her husband, she was. She just wanted to be a part of that happiness no matter the outcome.

 

The crunch of tires on the gravel driveway snapped her out of her thoughts and she jumped up to meet her husband at the door. No doubt he was frantic with worry after her short telephone call to come home immediately and she wanted to put any fears to rest as soon as possible.

 

She opened the door and stepped lightly onto the porch, holding her sweater over her chest against the morning chill.

 

Callum had already climbed the steps and was reaching out to her. “Belle! What's wrong. Are you sick? Are—“ He stopped there but Belle knew the unspoken question was: “Are you pregnant?”

 

She shook her head and gave him a smile. “No, I'm fine, Callum. Really.” She pointed to the yellow car in front of their house. “We have a couple of visitors.”

 

He kept ahold of her hand as he studied the car. “They must be quite important if you called me home on a rent day.” He glanced back at her, anxiety written all over his face.

 

She gave him points for the smile that he tried to give her, noticing the way his eyes tightened and his forehead creased with worry. She nodded her head, leading him into their home. She could hear the soft voices coming from the half bath and saw that Callum was thoroughly ill at ease with strangers in his house. She squeezed his hand in encouragement. “I didn't know what to do, but I felt that you should be here."

 

He faltered.

 

"It'll be fine, Callum. I promise.”

 

He looked at her a bit wildly. “Who—“

 

Just then the door opened and Henry came barreling out followed by his mother at a more sedate pace.

 

“—are _they_?” he finished.

 

Belle just kept his hand in hers to keep him grounded. “Callum, this is Emma Swan and her son Henry–"

 

But she didn't need to continue because he dropped to his knees with a heavy thud in front of young Henry. "Neal... had a son?" he looked up at Emma, his eyes wild. "You're the boy's mother? Henry Gold,” he said, sealing the name in his heart.

 

“Henry _Swan_ ,” Emma corrected.

 

“Hey,” Henry said, simply.

 

He looked up at Emma to see if it was okay and when she didn't make a move to stop him he reached out to touch Henry on the shoulder softly. "How old are you, Henry?” he asked, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall.

 

"Seven."

 

"He'll be eight next month," Emma supplied.

 

"Neal's been gone for ten years and dead for almost six. I never heard of him having a child before he died."

 

Emma shifted uncomfortably, eying her son carefully. "Well, he didn't really know. Neal left before I knew and... Well, I didn't go after him."

 

Callum looked up sharply. "And why are you just now contacting me?"

 

Emma took a deep breath, "Henry had some questions about his family. I looked for Neal but he'd already... died.” Her voice cracked at the last word and she cleared her throat. “He was still curious so I started looking for you and, well, here we are. You are actually pretty easy to find."

 

“I wasn't exactly hiding, dearie.” he said, his face a mixture of anger, hurt, and disbelief.

 

“I had to promise Mom to do well in school,” Henry added. “All year. It took forever.”

 

Callum looked back at him with a small smile. “And how did you do?”

 

“I skipped a grade!”

 

Belle squatted down so she was at the same level with her husband and Henry. “You must be very smart, Henry. That's a big achievement.”

 

“Mom just called me a squirt and said not to over do it.” He looked up at his mom in confusion. “I don't know if Mom will let me skip. I like being with my friends.”

 

“The kid is smart but stubborn when he puts his mind to something,” Emma said.

 

“Well,” said Callum. “That's something he has in common with his father. Other than his eyes.”

 

He started the arduous task of pulling himself up with his cane, his leg obviously aching. Belle scrambled to her feet to help support him. He nodded his thanks to her but kept hold of Henry's hand as they made their way to the parlor. He eased himself onto the couch and propped his cane against the armrest, staring at his grandson.

 

Emma followed them, sitting down in the chair she'd used before. "If you don't mind my saying, you're taking this really well. How do you know I'm not some con artist with a borrowed kid?"

 

Callum smiled grimly at her and Belle, knowing what he was thinking, retrieved a framed picture from the fireplace mantle. She handed it to Emma. “It's kind of obvious.”

 

"Even Belle can see it," Callum said as Emma studied the picture. "Henry looks a lot like Neal at that age. You may be a con artist and Henry may even be borrowed, but he is definitely Neal's boy."

 

Emma's face was guarded but she touched the boy in the picture lovingly. Belle thought that whatever had caused their separation, at least Emma had loved Neal at one point and perhaps a part of her still did. “Callum has... boxes full of pictures of your dad, Henry. I'll make copies of some for you if you want. If that's okay with you, Emma?” she asked not wanting to overstep her bounds, very aware that access to Henry was dependent on this woman. The same woman who had kept Henry from his father and who could easily disappear with him into thin air if she chose.

 

Emma handed it back with a shrug. "I've explained what a DNA test is to Henry. It'll take some bribing but he said he'd be willing. If you require it."

 

Callum shrugged, more at ease now that he was sitting down and the shock of Henry's existence had passed. "We won't have to do that right away. Maybe later for legal reasons but right now I can see with my own eyes who he is. What I am curious about is who you are."

 

Emma stiffened at that but he held up a hand to stave off the defensive woman. "There's plenty of time for that, too."

 

"Where are you staying?" Belle asked suddenly, fearing a confrontation due to her husband's unpredictable temper.

 

Emma, startled at the sudden change of subject, answered, “A place called Granny's? It was pretty much the only hotel we could find in town.”

 

Callum snorted at that and Belle frowned at him to keep him quiet. “Granny runs a lovely little inn; you won't want for anything. I stayed there for a while when I first moved to town, before my apartment was ready.” She paused and looked at her husband. His eyes met hers and he nodded his head in encouragement, then continued, “Of course, when you feel a bit more comfortable, you can always stay with us. We have plenty of room and I know Callum would love to get to know you and Henry more. And I also know he would love to answer Henry's questions,” she continued, eyeing her husband and willing him to behave.

 

He nodded at her in agreement keeping most of his attention on Henry.

 

Emma looked at Belle. “I'm sorry, but I know you're Belle, but what are you exactly? Some sort of housekeeper for Mr. Gold?”

 

Belle felt herself flush at the invasive question. She had her share of ridiculous, nosy people prying into her business when she first got married, but it had been so long now that she was out of practice. She plastered on her nicest company smile. “I'm his _wife_ ,” she said, firmly.

 

“His _wife_?” Emma glanced between Belle and Callum incredulously. “ _Really_?”

 

Belle sat up straighter and looked her square in the eyes. She hated having her marriage belittled for something so shallow as their age difference.

 

Henry looked at Belle in confusion. “So you're like my grandma?”

 

Callum's attention was, for once, focused solely on Belle. “She is,” he said as he looked at her, his eyes soft and warm.

 

Belle felt a bit dazed. She took his hand and squeezed it tight. “I am,” she told him before turning back to Henry. “If you want me to be, Henry.”

 

“But you're also my mom's age?” he asked.

 

Belle shrugged. “I don't see that as a problem and neither does your grandpa—“

 

Emma snorted before covering her mouth with a hand. “Sorry. I just... Neal never mentioned that his dad had a wife and well, he also said you were a bit of a bastard.”

 

“Neal died long before I met Belle,” Callum said gruffly before pulling himself to his feet. He turned towards his guests and swept his had out in a grand flourish. “I'm a difficult man to love, Miss Swan—a right bastard. Most days I don't know why Belle puts up with me.”

 

“I like putting up with you,” Belle told him in voice so low that Emma wasn't sure she'd heard her correctly. She rose, too, and joined her husband's side. “I think, perhaps, we're all operating on a few misconceptions. Why don't I take Henry to the library with me? If that's alright with you?” She turned to Henry instead of Emma, giving him a say in what happened.

 

“I wanted to ask my grandpa some questions...” Henry said, unsure of what was going on but equally sure he was in the middle of it all.

 

“And you will,” Callum said. “But first I think your mother and I need to have a grown up talk and it would be a lot easier for both of us if we could speak to each other without censoring ourselves. Do you know what that means?”

 

“Yeah, it means you're gonna have a fight but you don't want me to see it.” he replied frankly.

 

Callum looked at Emma. “The boy is very smart. But I don't think fighting will be necessary, will it?”

 

Emma spread out her hands and shrugged. “Nope. We're reasonable adults. You run along with... Granny Belle,” she said with a wry smile, “and I'll see you in an hour, okay kid?”

 

Henry nodded his head and shuffled out to the hallway to put his sneakers back on, Emma following to help and, most likely, to offer last minute instructions on how to behave or _else_.

 

Belle kissed Callum on the cheek, resting her hand upon his shoulder. “It will be fine,” she whispered into his ear. “I'll be here for you if you need me. Just don't bully her, Callum.”

 

He abruptly turned his head and surprised her a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth—he almost never displayed his affections in front of other people and the gesture made her quite breathless. “Thank you. _Granny Belle_ ,” he said with a teasing smile.

 

He looked worried and hopeful all at the same time. She hoped he would be able to keep things civil with Henry's mother. “I like the sound of that. Granny Belle. Or maybe just Grandmum.”

 

“You do?” he asked.

 

She kissed him again, this time fully on the lips. “I do. I'd have preferred 'Mum', but I'm glad you're getting what you wanted.”

 

“What I wanted?” He drew back from her, searching her eyes for... something. Belle would give anything for some real privacy, but with Emma just steps away they couldn't begin to discuss that things they needed to. “Belle—”

 

“I'm ready, Belle,” Henry called out from the hallway.

 

She reluctantly pulled away from Callum and smiled sheepishly, blushing slightly. She was still unused to being affectionate with her husband in front of people but she liked the idea of getting used to it. “That's great, Henry! Let's see about getting you your own library card.”

 

Henry perked up a bit. “I already have my own for the library at home.”

 

“That's wonderful! And now you can have one for Storybrooke as well.”

 

“Do you think they'll let me?”

 

“I don't see why not,” she said bending down a bit to look him in the eye. “You'll have special privileges. You see your grandmum is the head librarian.”

 

 

 

 

 


	4. The Thing About Bastards

When they were first married Belle surprised him by preferring to go about things naturally. “At least at first.” And while he certainly had no objections to making love to a beautiful, willing woman he just assumed that she would want matters to be taken care of within a sterile medical environment away from his more active participation. Their wedding night found him spread out, sweating and gasping and damn near death in the best way possible.

 

Afterwards, he was grateful for her insistence on not going the medical route immediately because it had allowed them to get to know each other better. A courtship after the wedding allowed them to iron out their major differences before they started a family. They weren't married a week before Callum started thanking his lucky stars that she accepted him because there was a difference between _willing_ and _wanting_ and in that short span of time, even with a huge argument hovering over their heads, he'd never felt more accepted.

 

He felt younger, more alive and happier than he'd ever known he could be again after Neal's death. After a while he was starting to think that perhaps Belle felt more for him than the obvious fondness she held for him. She was always kind to him when they were merely friends, but after marriage that kindness blossomed into a warm regard that left him breathless. He _felt_ it, the way she looked after him and the way she implicitly placed her trust in him. He felt like a fraud when he thought about it because, even though the proposal wasn't planned nor could he have ever expected her to actually say yes and then go through with it, he knew that he'd trapped her.

 

Belle took his quiet, boring life and turned it on its ears and he relished every bit of it. It didn't surprise him that he fell in love with her; he'd been nursing a healthy crush on the librarian for months so the jump from crush to love was a given. He wasn't a man who was able to talk about his feelings without his throat closing up and he was sure to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. He understood that some people were capable of being openly affectionate, but as he was never encouraged to be before, he didn't know how. Instead he made sure his wife felt loved by doing things for her, giving her everything she wanted before she knew she wanted it. He made it a point to study the things she liked and made sure that they were available to her. Belle wanted to travel? They went to Italy, then Spain, then Turkey in a whirlwind tour that left his leg aching but his wife ecstatic. Belle liked books? The children's library received a hefty, anonymous donation. Belle enjoyed a certain flavor ice cream only available in February and it was August? There would be a crateful on their doorstep within a week.

 

He didn't fool himself. He knew that a part of him was afraid that she would wake up one day and realize that it wasn't worth it – that _he_ wasn't worth it and so he did everything he could to make her want to stay. The longer they remained childless the more he feared she would change her mind and walk away — their prenuptial agreement allowed for a clean break for both of them. For him, though, it had long ceased to be merely about a baby and all about a family with Belle and only Belle. For him, there would be no one else. If she left him then he would truly be dust.

 

He wasn't always subtle about it (the ice cream was a big hit as she shook her head at the unwarranted expense even as she licked it off the spoon — and, later on, off his body) but he just wanted to show her, in any way he could short of sky writing, that he adored her. And, maybe, she would love him enough to stay.

 

* * *

 

“I'm sorry,” Emma said once Belle and her son were halfway down the street. “I can be a bit blunt.”

 

“Don't apologize,” he replied. “Blunt is good. And I _am_ a bastard.”

 

“Still, I don't like Henry hearing me speak like that.”

 

“Then apologize to him, not me.” He walked back to the sofa, leaning heavily on his cane, and sat down. He motioned to Emma towards a cabinet on the opposite side of the room. “If you'd do me the favor of bringing me the box just inside the lower cabinet...”

 

Nonplussed and a bit curious, Emma squatted in front of the low doors and rifled inside. “This big one? Labeled pictures?”

 

“That's the one.” The bitter taste that welled up in his mouth whenever he thought of his first wife, which wasn't often thankfully, presented itself as if on cue. “Could you put it on the table?”

 

Emma hefted it up with a small grunt and then plopped it on the coffee table, rattling the knickknacks. “Look, Mr. Gold, I know it's been a while since you've had a young kid, but if you expect Henry to be here for more than fifteen minutes at a time you may want to clear out some of these breakables.”

 

“They're just things, Miss Swan. But I'll have them put away if you prefer,” he said with a wry grin. He opened the lid of the box revealing a large pile of pictures. “These are for Henry. I have more and I kept some of Neal's stuff from when he was a boy. Legos and army men and such. Those are pretty much always a favorite with children.”

 

Emma was busy flipping through a few of the photographs. She held up a picture with worn edges and a crease down the middle and showed it to him.

 

“That's Neal's mother. You don't have to take them, not right away, but they're here if he wants them. If he doesn't want the whole box maybe he can pick a few favorites. He should know who his father was.”

 

“Well, that's why we're here,” she said setting the picture aside. “Look, about Neal... I never meant to keep Henry a secret, believe me. I just—well, he left and I have a thing about abandonment. ”

 

He rubbed his mouth with a couple of fingers in careful thought. “Your parents?” he asked quietly.

 

“I was, um, found on the side of the road,” she said refusing to look at him.

 

“That's horrible.”

 

“Yeah. I don't really talk about it much.”

 

“I can appreciate that. I have my own abandonment issues as well so we have that in common.” He tried to smile but found that it was a wasted effort. Neither of them thought it was funny. “Has it been difficult?”

 

“Raising Henry? Or raising myself?” she asked, rifling through the pictures and pulling one out every so often to get a better look. She held one up and showed it to Callum with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. It showed him in fine form sometime during the seventies. “I see you kept the hair, but bell bottoms? Really?”

 

He snorted. “The seventies weren't kind. Neither were the eighties, but at least I never jumped on the pastel bandwagon. The colors washed me out,” he said with self-deprecation

 

“Small miracles,” she said, putting the picture back. She sat back and looked him in the eyes. “I'm not sure what you want me to say, Mr. Gold. Neal was less than forthcoming about his parents and what he did say wasn't very flattering to say the least.”

 

He nodded his head. “I'm not surprised. Milah walked out on us and I didn't deal with it very well. I tried, but I made a lot of mistakes. As a single parent yourself I'm sure you can understand that,” he said, standing up again and striding over to the door. Emma immediately got up and followed as he led her to his office. “People in town will tell you I'm a monster and that I have no heart. It's common knowledge.” He spoke in an offhand manner as if what he was saying about himself didn't matter.

 

“I own most of the property in town so most of the people are my tenants,” he said, rifling through a horizontal filing cabinet. He pulled out a few folders, one at a time, and placed them on his desk. He glanced at her quickly. “I don't like when people tell me they're going to do something and then they try to back out. I'm a fair man but I hate being lied to. If someone agrees to pay rent on the twenty-second, then I show up and they tell me they don't have the money I get upset. If they borrow money with the promise that they'll make a payment on the fifteenth, I expect to be paid on the fifteenth. It's simple. It's the same day every month so it shouldn't be a surprise. Eventually I stopped listening to excuses and that, apparently, makes me a monster.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

 

“Because I want you to stay. You and Henry. I would like to be in his life and to do that I have to be honest with you.” He handed the files to her which she took automatically. “I have several vacant properties available. You're welcome to have any one of them that you choose with no expense on your part. Storybrooke is a quiet town for the most part. Low crime rate, _mostly_ quiet evenings and a good school—”

 

“It sounds like Stepford,” she said.

 

He had to smile at that. “It has its moments to be sure.”

 

“I'll think about it.”

 

“I can't ask you to do more than that.”

 

“You just did,” she pointed out with a smirk.

 

He shrugged his shoulders. “I'm also a bastard.”

 

“You're never gonna let me live that down are you?”

 

He chuckled softly. “Stay for the summer. You can commute to Boston or take a sabbatical— What is it that you do?”

 

“I'm a bailbondsperson.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “... Interesting. Well, you can certainly work remotely then if you wanted.” He paused. “ _How_ did you get into that line of work if you don't mind my asking?”

 

She shrugged. “It was convenient at the time.”

 

“Do you enjoy it?”

 

“Mmm. It pays the bills. Beats waitressing.”

 

“How would you like being a deputy?”

 

“Excuse me?” she asked, flabbergasted.

 

“Our town is in need of a new deputy.”

 

She gave him the best side eye he'd ever received. “And you're just offering me the job? Is that even legal?”

 

“No, no, of course not. You'd have to apply for the position and interview plus a background check. There are proper channels to go through. But I can make things easier.”

 

She eyed him warily. “I'll think about it.”

 

“There's dental.”

 

“I'll _think_ about it,” she said firmly.

 

“Fair enough.” He took a deep breath, about to say something but hesitated.

 

“What?”

 

“ _Why_ did Neal leave?” He looked at her in disbelief, the pain of knowing that his son followed in his mother's footsteps almost unbearable to think about any longer. It hurt his heart. Neal was never cruel and to leave without warning was the epitome of cruelty in Callum's eyes.

 

She looked down at the folders in her hand, tapping them gently against her thigh. “I don't know. He didn't say, he just... one day he was there and the next morning he was gone.” She looked back up at him with tear-bright eyes. “He was a bastard.”

 

 

 


	5. The Thing About Peonies

They got married on a rainy Saturday in March. She met him outside the courthouse wearing a cream colored coat and a shy smile and holding the bouquet of peonies he had flown in from a greenhouse in Missouri. The pale pink of the flowers didn't come close to the soft blush that graced Belle's cheeks but they looked beautiful held in her small hands. Peonies symbolized happiness in marriage and he wished for that with all his heart. With Belle and their children.

She spoke her vows with confidence and if her hand trembled a bit when he slipped the ring on he didn't remark on it. The kiss signifying the end of the ceremony was their first. Her lips were warm and satiny against his and he closed his eyes wanting to block out the horrified stares of the officiant and clerk. Then she smiled at him when it was all over and he stopped noticing the others anyway.

Later, in the privacy of his home, she took off her jacket to reveal the shear blouse she wore underneath and her intentions had become clear to him: she was going to be his _wife_. The petals of her bouquet were strewn across his bed — their bed now. The fragrance would be branded with the memory of the way she rode him into the mattress in search of her first orgasm. How she clenched around his cock, the softness of her skin beneath his hands as he helped her work above him, her hips rocking and rocking against his, and the way her breasts were just out of reach of his mouth, smelling of sweat and crushed petals.

The next day, in the wee hours of morning before they departed for their honeymoon, he pressed his boutonnière between the pages of a heavy and boring law book kept within reach on a shelf near his desk.

 

* * *

 

Belle poked her head into the study to find her husband rifling through some papers on his desk. “Hey. I was wondering if you were coming to bed?”

Callum looked up and smiled at her warmly. “Hey. I was just going over some things.” There was a thick law book at his elbow and she thought she smelled the faint scent of flowers. But that couldn't be right, Callum preferred to wear spicier colognes. Maybe it was left over from Emma's visit this afternoon.

She walked in and leaned over the desk, shamelessly using her cleavage in the hopes to entice him upstairs then felt her stomach drop when she realized what she was looking at. “You're going over our prenup?”

She sat down heavily, all thoughts of seduction gone. Belle knew there would be some changes in their lives, but she didn't think he would get to it so quickly. It hadn't even been six hours and he was already starting the divorce proceedings? She felt hurt and betrayed and angry that he could just throw her away like that after everything they went through. She thought that he had grown to care about her — might even love her though he was reluctant to say the words out loud. Their marriage was based on convenience but she didn't think that was any reason to forego love altogether. Certainly she had fallen in love with her husband after months of tender care and consideration from him.

He took a deep breath and kept his eyes downcast, hiding behind the waterfall of hair. “I thought it was time to review it. It's been nearly two years; we should think about some amendments.” His fingers rubbed together restlessly in a nervous tick and she noticed that he still wore his ring.

She gave him a watery smile and willed herself to stay calm, to hear him out. There was no need to jump to conclusions, but damn it, it _hurt_. She had wanted to have a child with him so much and now it looks like she was being tossed out with the garbage. “Yes, of course. Now that you know about Henry I guess I'm a bit superfluous. Apparently I'm not as fertile as the doctors thought.”

He winced and finally looked her. “I— No, that's not what I meant.”

“Then what _did_ you mean?” she asked just wanting him to say it already and let her go if he was so determined to end their marriage. “Are you preparing for the annulment?”

He paled. “Do you want one?” he asked quietly, his voice cracking.

“Do _you_?” She stared him down. If he wanted her out of his life then he was going to have to man up and say the words. She wasn't going to make it easier for him by going first.

He stared at her and she had never seen him look so old or tired as she did at that moment and Belle knew that she loved him wholeheartedly. It wasn't fair. At least she hadn't broken down and told him before this moment. Maybe she should have? Maybe it would have made a difference. Who knows? All she knew at that moment was that her husband was coming to a rather important decision. She steeled herself for the pain of rejection, hoping that she was wrong and he wasn't going to leave her despite everything.

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, tapping the papers loudly against the desk to straighten the pile. He looked at them for a moment then he turned to his left and ran the papers through a shredder with a loud _zhhhhhrrrrttt._

Belle looked on in astonishment, her eyes wide and breath quickening. “That would mean more if I didn't know you had one on file with your lawyers and another copy in your safe at the shop.” But that seed of hope blossomed in her heart. This was not the action of a man who wanted a divorce, this was the action of a man who was willing to fight for her.

He smirked. “You have a copy with your lawyer, too, if I recall correctly.”

“Well, you did advise me to do so.”

“I had Dove courier my copies over when you went back to work,” he confessed quietly, glancing at her. “You have the only one left.”

“You did? _Why_?”

“Because I love you,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the whole world. “I love you. And I don't want you to walk out of my life. Henry... changes _nothing_. I want to be with you forever. I want to make babies with you and go to Bali next year and make _more_ babies. I can't tell you how much I love you and how much I want you and if I were a better man then maybe I could say it but I _can't_ , Belle, and it hurts me right here,” he pressed his palm to his chest taking a deep breath. “It hurts that I can't talk about it because you deserve to know.” He looked at her nearly hysterical. “But I'm scared that if I say it you'll leave just like everyone else. Don't you get it? I am so fucking scared, Belle!”

She grabbed him by his over-priced suit lapels and hauled him into a fierce kiss. “You.” Kiss. “Silly.” Kiss. “Stubborn.” Kiss. Kiss. “Man. I love you.” Kiss. “I won't leave you.” Kiss. “You're stuck with me.” Kiss. “Until the day I die.”

“Don't die,” he said with a whimper, trying to keep up with her frantic kisses but she was moving so quickly he was meeting nothing but air half the time.

She held his face between her hands, looking at him. “The only thing I plan on doing, Callum, is making a baby right now on your desk. I love you.”

He stood, gasping and with the sweep of his arm knocked everything off his desk with a resounding crash. Belle crawled on top and met him halfway with more burning kisses that shook him to his very toes.

“I love you.”

The scent of peonies filled the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your lovely comments and for the kudos! I think I might open it up to prompts if you feel so inclined. I'm not great at it, but I'll do my best to fill them if I can.


	6. The Thing About Bali

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got asked about this a couple times recently. Thank you so much for reading! P.S. I googled a typical last name for a Balinese woman and learned a great deal about their naming system. It's super simple and, yet, to this westerner, utterly confusing.

 

Their first two Christmases together were spent blissfuly snowed in at their cabin in the woods where no one could bother them. Lazy days spent in their pajamas and fuzzy slippers before a roaring fire while they took turns reading aloud from a book turned into blistering evenings making love, pajamas peeled off and flung to the corners of their bedroom without a care in the world.

They looked forward to their cabin time — Callum especially as it gave them a break from the town and its residents, always so quick to judge and quicker to reject. Belle loved the solitude and the peaceful quiet with only her doting husband for company.

When Emma and Henry moved to town, they put off their planned trip to Bali until after the new year, wanting to spend the holidays with Emma and Henry as a family. Henry was a sweet boy with a clever mind and Thanksgiving and Christmas were joyful affairs now that they had someone to spoil. Still, they had plans to build a family of their own and, even though the holidays were packed with activities and the starting of new traditions, Belle looked forward to beginning that journey with her husband. When she packed up the last antique bauble and put away the decorations, she revisited the idea of Bali with her husband, wanting to get a head start on the new year and, hopefully, have a baby before another Christmas passed.

 

* * *

 

Belle dragged after the long plane ride, their layovers in Los Angeles and Taipei having done nothing to help with the fatigue. Callum chalked it up to jet lag, but when three days had passed and they still hadn't set foot outside their bungalow before Belle retreated to the bathroom where she emptied the contents of her stomach, he began to seriously worry.

He felt miserable about it. This trip was supposed to be a way for them to reconnect after their busy holiday season, but it had only turned into a nightmare for his sweet wife who was now thousands of miles away from the comfort of her home and doctor. It was a horrible time for her to get sick and he cursed himself for not hiring a private plane where the odds of catching something communicable were a lot less than flying commercial.

He was on the phone with the resort's concierge during her latest bout of stomach upset, arguing over what constituted a good physician when the sight of Belle's pale face emerging from the bathroom halted the argument in its tracks.

“Just have him here within an hour,” he growled into the phone before angrily slamming it down. He limped over to his wife and gently took her into his arms. “Belle, sweetheart, I'm so sorry for dragging you here. We should have stayed home—”

She shook her head weakly and let herself be led back to bed. She slumped over the second the back of her legs hit the mattress. “It's not your fault I got sick, Callum. Who were you terrorizing on the phone?” she asked as he tucked a pillow underneath her knees. He knew that his fussing was a bit ridiculous, but she didn't have the energy to protest.

“Just getting trying to find a qualified doctor to come make you well again.”

She groaned into her pillow. “I'm sure I'll be fine in the morning, Callum.”

“You said that yesterday, Belle, and you're not fine. You haven't been been fine for days and now you're unable to keep anything down and I'm beginning to worry you're getting dehydrated. Sweetheart, just let the doctor come and look at you.”

She nodded, closing her eyes and trying to keep her stomach from protesting even that much. It was unthinkable that she would be ill during what was supposed to be a baby making vacation, but here she was in bed while he hovered over her uselessly, fingers twitching with the desperate need to adjust something to make her feel more comfortable.

“Do you want some water?”

She opened up one eye and stared at him.

“No, I'm sorry, that was a stupid question,” he said, abashed. He looked around the room. It was beautiful, done up in soft whites and natural, local wood. The bungalow opened onto a private beach where the water was almost as blue and clear as his wife's eyes. He'd left the doors open so the warm breeze would come in, wafting the curtains gently like it was some fucking movie set. He wished Belle was well enough to sit out on the shaded veranda, but even sitting up affected her, so he held her limp hand in his, stroking her knuckles softly while she whimpered into the pillow.

She pulled at him until he was carefully wrapped around her.

She looked over her shoulder, worry lines creased her forehead and he wanted to soothe them away.

“I'm sorry, Callum.”

“For what?” he asked, in a low voice, giving in finally, leaning down to lay a soft kiss on her forehead.

“I ruined our vacation.”

“We'll take another one when you're feeling better,” he promised, moving a strand of hair off her face and tucking it behind her hear. Belle was sweaty and her eyes were swollen and red from crying and there was no one more beautiful in the world to him. “Where shall we go? Antartica? We can bowl for penguins.”

She managed a slight smile. “You can't do that.”

“You can,” he insisted. “I've seen it on You Tube. What you do is you get a plane and—”

The crunch of shoes on the raked gravel outside the bungalow followed by a short rat-a-tat-a-tat of a brisk knock upon their door interrupted them. He extracted himself as gently as he could, not wanting to disturb his wife with a bouncing mattress, and hurried to open it, revealing a tall, dark-skinned woman holding a medical bag in her hand.

She looked him up and down briefly with a wry smile. “I'm Dr. Sudra. You've threatened for a doctor?”

Gold felt a wave of relief rush over him and opened the door wider. “Yes! Yes, of course, come in. It's my wife. She's been sick for days.”

Dr. Sudra stepped in and neatly toed her shoes off at the door. “ _Days_?” she said as she approached the bed. “Why have you waited this long to call me?” She set her bag down on a side table and bent over Belle with a concerned look. “Mrs. Gold? Can you tell me what's wrong?”

Belle opened an eye and tried to smile. “I think I have the flu. Been throwing up.”

Dr. Sudra made a small tsking noise full of sympathy. “That's bad luck to come all this way only to be sick.”

“Mmm,” Belle agreed.

“Well, we'll have you better soon,” she said, opening her medical bag and pulling out a stethoscope. She hooked it over her ears and motioned for Belle to roll over. “Let's see what's the matter with you.”

Gold hovered over them as Dr. Sudra moved the stethoscope back and forth over Belle's chest, quietly asking her to breathe in, then out several times. She looked into Belle's mouth, her eyes, and up her nose as if she was a prize horse and he never felt more useless in his life.

“Is there something I can do?” he asked.

“You can get some fresh water for your wife. She's slightly dehydrated,” the doctor admonished.

He hurried to comply, feeling even worse for letting Belle's condition deteriorate so much. She'd had a difficult time even keeping a sip down let alone a full glass. He should have taken her to the hospital instead of letting her talk him into staying. He was the worst husband in the world for not insisting on getting proper care. He hurried back, holding the glass while Dr. Sudra helped her sit up. Belle grudgingly took a few sips only to push them out of the way a moment later in her rush to reach the bathroom in time.

Callum quickly scurried after her, holding her hair back off her face as she wretched into the toilet. There wasn't anything left to come up though so she was left shaking with aching muscles and a tear-streaked face. He helped her off the floor, the two of them limping pathetically back to the bed where Dr. Sudra was waiting for them with an amused look on her face.

“Well,” she said, as she helped Belle back into the bed. “I don't think you have the flu. I'll do a swab if it will put your mind at rest, but it will take a while to get the results from the lab...”

Belle nodded her head.

“In the meantime,” she said, digging into her medical bag like Mary Poppins and pulling out a small, rectangular box with squiggly writing on it. “When was your last period, Mrs. Gold, do you remember?”

Belle blinked at her in confusion. “I... It was...” Comprehension dawned on her face and she started laughing. “November! Oh my gosh, Callum! We've been so busy with Henry that it completely slipped my mind!”

Callum dropped the glass he was holding. “November. But it's January now!” He dropped to his knees, unmindful of the puddle on the floor and the way it soaked his slacks, grabbing the hand she was holding out to him.

Belle nodded, smiling “I know!”

Dr. Sudra nodded, and held the box out to Belle. “I trust you know how this works?”

Belle propped herself on an elbow with a wince and took it. “It's a pregnancy test?” she asked, looking at the unfamiliar writing.

“Yes. We'll wait here while you confirm,” she said, helping Belle back up.

“I feel so silly,” she said as she slowly stood up. “We've been trying for so long that you'd think I'd have known.”

“You're not the first person to lose track of their cycle,” the doctor replied mildly as Belle disappeared into the bathroom again. She turned to Gold. “The morning sickness is unfortunate, but it's a good sign. I'll call in a prescription for Zofran and they will deliver it here to you within the hour so there is no more need for threats. It will help with the nausea. You can also make her some ginger tea to help. She must stay hydrated. No more refusing liquids.”

“And it's safe?” he asked, worried for the health of his wife and possible child.

“Perfectly safe. It will relieve her enough for her to resume her normal activities. And _eat_ ,” she told him, sternly.

“I'll take care of her,” he said and jumped up as Belle emerged from the bathroom, looking happy, if a bit green. He guided her back to the bed, dying to know what the test said, but not wanting to stress his wife out.

Dr. Sudra had no qualms. “Is it confirmed?”

“I don't know yet,” she said. “I wanted to find out with Callum.” She looked at him with watery eyes and held the pregnancy stick out to him, which he gingerly took.

He waited until he was sitting next to her on the bed, wrapping her in his arms before turning the test over in his hands so they both could see.

It was positive.

“My congratulations,” Dr. Sudra said happily. “You will, of course, have to follow up with your own doctor back home in...”

“Maine,” Belle said, dreamily, as Callum silently wept into her hair.

The doctor shrugged and went over everything she'd already told Callum, with some additional information regarding her nutrition and health.

Gold heard none of it. The doctor's soothing voice washed over him as he sat, stunned, next to his wife. Beautiful Belle who had give him her love and her heart and, now, a child. _Their_ child. He knew he was being ridiculous, crying all over her like this, but he didn't care. They were having a baby and he was the happiest he'd ever been in a long time.

Belle was crushing his hand in her excitement as she said her goodbyes to the doctor with the promise of another visit in a few days to see how she was getting along. Callum floated on air, his bum ankle forgotten as he showed Dr. Sudra the door, and he floated back, a stupid, goofy smile on his face as he saw Belle, still lying in bed, her eyes bright now and smiling at him as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“I love you,” he murmured into her ear.

She reached up to wipe under his eyes with a thumb. “I love you, too.”

“What do you want to do now?” he asked. “Do you want to fly home early once the medicine kicks in or should we stick it out for the next ten days?”

“I'm going wherever you go, Callum,” she said with a smirk, poking at him with a finger. “I can't believe I lost track like that. We've been trying for so long.”

He chuckled as he lay down next to her. “Dr. Whale said that would be the case. That once we stopped pressuring ourselves to have a baby we'd most likely conceive. He blinked. “Wait, how far along are you?”

“You weren't listening?” she asked, pretending to be offended. “I figured you'd have been taking copious notes.”

“I was busy being happy!” he said with a small laugh. “I'm sorry, I'll never do it again.”

She poked him again, this time on the nose. “Hush, you. Dr. Sudra says late August.”

“I can't think of a better time to have a baby,” he said.

“You'd say that no matter what time of year it was.”

“That's because it's true.”

She looked up at him with affection, reaching up to cup his face. “Hey. You're going to be a great daddy. I can see you're starting to worry and I don't want you to do that.” She curled her fingers around his and shook their hands. “You're going to be just fine.”

He nodded, looking down at their joined hands. “I just... I don't want to make the same mistakes that I did with Neal.”

She scoffed. “That's not going to happen. For one thing, I'm not going anywhere. And for another, I'm not going anywhere. Do you understand? I'm not going anywhere. I'll have that tattooed on my chest if I have to.”

He quickly glanced down at the swell of her breasts. “No, no. Don't do that,” he muttered, nuzzling her along the top of her head. “I'll remember. You aren't going anywhere. And neither am I.”

“We're a family now. You and me and this baby. And we'll always, always have each other. Got it?”

"I do,” he said, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.

“Good. Now, move!” she said, shoving him off the bed with her feet. “I have to throw up again.”

 

 


End file.
